by Bold, Diana
For nearly a week, he turned the problem over in his head, trying to understand what exactly it was that he wanted from her. Were his feelings based wholly on his attraction for her? Though that was definitely part of it, that wasn’t the only reason he wanted to spend time with her. She sparked something inside of him, something he’d never felt before, and he wanted to explore it.
At last, he decided that in order for them to have any quality time together, he would have to return to the orphanage after he’d taken his children home and tucked them in and all the children of the orphanage were also in bed.
So, he settled in to wait, after he’d made sure the nanny knew he’d be gone for a while, and finally, made his way to Brookhaven. It was nearly midnight before he let himself into a side door with a key she’d given him.
As he’d expected, he found her in her office, bent over her books, a troubled frown on her lovely face. He stood in the doorway for a moment, simply watching her. She truly was absolutely stunning, and he enjoyed getting to just drink her in. When she finally looked up at him, a wide grin curved her lips, and in that unguarded moment, he knew she was just as happy to see him as he was to see her.
But then, as though she’d caught herself, she frowned again. “Did you forget something?”
He slowly shook his head. “No, I just wanted to spend some time with you.”
Her frown deepened. “You see me every day.”
With a sigh, he walked into the room and took the seat across from her desk. “Have I done something wrong, Fiona? You’ve been so distant lately.”
She bit her lip and dropped her gaze, staring at the papers in front of her as though they held all the secrets in the world. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Morgan.”
“Then why are you angry with me?” he asked softly.
“I’m not angry,” she said quickly, finally looking at him, her green eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t name. “I just don’t know what you want from me.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” he assured her. “Just your company. Just your friendship.”
She flushed and looked down again. “I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am, but I can’t be your mistress, Morgan.”
A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Why would she think that? He hadn’t done anything to disrespect her in that way. After all, she’d been the one to kiss him. “That’s not what I want from you, Fiona. I would never ask that of you.”
“Then what?” she cried, scooting her chair back and putting more distance between them. “I’m so far beneath you that your intentions could never be honorable, so what else am I supposed to think?”
Her words shocked him, but he suddenly understood why she’d been so standoffish, how his obvious attraction toward her must have appeared. Of course, she’d thought he wanted to make her his mistress, that he’d meant to seduce her. Hell, even Adrian had thought that.
“Do you think that where you came from matters to me?” he asked, his own emotions roiling within him. “One of my brothers married an actress and the other married a housemaid. We Strathmores could care less about what other people think when it comes to the women we choose.”
“Have you chosen me, Morgan? Is that what this is?” She got to her feet, pacing behind her desk like a caged animal, a wild light in her eyes. “I’m nothing like Serenity and Vanessa,” she assured him, her voice filled with anguish. “I could never be good enough for someone like you. Never.”
Unable to bear it, he rounded the desk and pulled her into his arms, holding her against him until she stopped struggling and stilled, her breath coming fast and harsh. He soothed her hair, his own heart racing. “Don’t say that, Fiona. You are good and sweet and beautiful, and I don’t know if I’ve ever liked anyone more.”
She blinked up at him through her tears, her green eyes filled with tentative hope and longing. “You can’t mean that.”
“Of course, I do,” he whispered, brushing a few auburn strands from her damp cheek. “You have such strength, Fiona. Such character. I honestly don’t know what my intentions are where you’re concerned, but I promise I would never do anything to dishonor or hurt you. If I step out of line at all, if I ever make you feel the least bit uncomfortable, all you have to do is tell me.”
She shivered and buried her face against his chest once again. “Everything you do makes me uncomfortable,” she whispered, her voice muffled. “But in a good way. I’ve never felt so safe, so cared for. It’s hard for me to trust that.”
“Me, too,” he agreed. “I’ve never known a woman I could be myself around. With Anne... I always had to pretend, always had to keep my true thoughts and emotions at bay.”
“What are we going to do?” she asked plaintively. “How can we possibly be anything more than friends?”
He tilted her chin up and stared deep into her eyes. “Friends is enough for now, don’t you think? I just want to go back to how things were between us a week ago. Do you think we could do that?”
She bit her lip. “A week ago, we kissed.”
He winced. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“That’s just it,” she admitted softly. “I’m not. I loved it when we kissed. You’re the only man who has ever treated me with such tenderness. I think about it all the time.”
He hugged her tighter against him, her words sending fire through his blood. “I think about it, too.”
For a few moments, they simply stood there, breathing each other in, the weight of their admissions hanging between them. He pressed his face against her hair, eyes closed, wishing he knew what the hell he was doing, wishing he knew the right words to say.
FIONA RESTED HER HEAD against Morgan’s chest, still stunned by his midnight visit. She’d tried so hard to stay away from him during the last week, but it had been hard when he was all she thought about, all she wanted. Her feelings for him absolutely terrified her, but she could no longer deny them.
But admitting that she cared for him didn’t change a thing. She was still so far beneath him, and there was still Brookhaven and her work as Prometheus to consider. All he did was distract her, but he was a welcome distraction indeed.
“When you’re here, you remind me that I’m a woman, that I have thoughts and feelings other than this place and the children,” she whispered.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” he murmured, gently rubbing his hand up and down her back. “You have to take some time for yourself every once in a while.”
She shivered, feeling so incredibly tempted. “I can’t.”
“What would it hurt to spend an hour with me now, talking and relaxing with a glass of brandy?” he asked, sounding like Satan must have in the Garden of Eden.
She laughed and gestured toward the clock on the mantel. “It’s nearly one o’clock.”
“And you would have stayed up another hour working on the books, wouldn’t you?” he asked, knowing her so well. He pulled back and then took her hand, leading her over to the sofa. “Why don’t you sit here for a moment? I’ll get us something to drink.”
With a sigh, she capitulated. He was right. She’d stayed up much later than this in the past. Was it so wrong to take an hour for herself? To get to know this incredible man a little better?
As she sank into the sofa, she had a feeling that her life would never be the same again.
A few moments later, he sat down beside her, pressing a glass of brandy in her hand. She took a bracing sip, wincing a bit as the warmth burned its way down her throat. She rarely drank, having seen at a young age how a dependence on alcohol could destroy lives. Would her father have done the awful things he had if he hadn’t been poisoned by his demons? But tonight, it felt wonderful, almost instantly calming her nerves and infusing her with a feeling of warmth.
“You’re really a fantastic artist,” she finally said, wanting to move the conversation away from their strong attraction to each other and onto a safer topic.
“Thank you,�
� he said softly, angling his body a bit so he could meet her gaze. He took a sip of his drink and then set it aside on the small table beside the sofa. “It’s my true passion.”
“How did you learn how to do it?” she asked, then felt incredibly stupid. She knew nothing of how the upper crust lived. They probably all had art lessons as part of their education.
“It’s just always been something I was good at,” he said, not batting an eye over her silly question. “Some of my first memories are of sketching my dog with a piece of charcoal. My father... he encouraged me, but after he died... My stepfather mocked me cruelly, said it wasn’t a manly pursuit, destroyed all my work.”
The pain of his quiet admission hurt her as well. “Oh, Morgan,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. What an absolutely dreadful thing to do to a child.”
He shrugged, trying to play it off. “I didn’t paint for years after that. I felt embarrassed, ashamed. But right before Anne died, I started again. Obsessively.” He stared past her, his eyes far away. “I began to paint my childhood nightmares, and I believe it helped me exorcise some of those demons. A bit of the wildness inside of me dissipated.”
She covered his hand with hers, squeezing gently. She wanted to ask him what had happened in his childhood that he needed so desperately to recover from but didn’t want to push him to reveal more than he was ready to. “I’m glad you started again.”
“I am as well.” He shook his head, as though banishing the bad memories, and met her gaze again. “The work I’ve been doing here is like nothing I’ve ever done before. It’s fulfilling me in a way I can’t explain.”
“I’m so glad.” She released his hand and took another drink of her brandy. “I’m not artistic at all,” she admitted. “I’ve always had a head for numbers, though.”
“It seems to me that you are passionate about that,” he said, his eyes suddenly twinkling. “Adrian calls you his little bean counter, doesn’t he?”
Heat filled her cheeks and she nodded. “He does. And I suppose you’re right. When I can balance a ledger, make this month’s budget, save a few pounds... Well, that’s a beautiful thing to me.”
“We all see beauty in different ways.” He stretched his arm along the back of the sofa until his fingers lightly brushed her shoulder. “There is no right or wrong when it comes to beauty or passion.”
She sighed and leaned a bit more into his touch. “I suppose you’re right. I know Adrian appreciates the work I do here, and it always meant a lot to me that he supported me and never tried to change me. Even before I knew who he truly was, he supported me as Prometheus. We were such good friends... I’ve missed that. I miss him.”
“He still cares about the place more than you could imagine,” Morgan reassured her. “But Vanessa and the children have changed him. He’s truly happy now, for the first time I can remember.”
“And I’m happy for him.” She closed her eyes briefly, thinking about Adrian and Vanessa and the love they’d found together. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. It’s just been lonely here without him, so I’ve been very grateful that you’ve stepped in and filled some of that void.”
The moment she said it, the words felt wrong. It made her sound ungrateful, and it also made it seem as though she thought of Morgan as just a substitute for his brother, something that must be annoying for a twin, the notion that one was interchangeable with the other.
But he didn’t seem offended. Instead, he just smiled. “The weeks that I’ve spent here have been some of the best of my life. The best in recent memory, at least. I’m not doing this just because I want to make a difference in these children’s lives, although I do. I’m doing it because I like spending time here with my children. They enjoy it, too. Since Anne died, we’ve just been going through the motions. I feel like we’re finally starting to live again. To be a family...” He trailed off, looking embarrassed. “I haven’t been the best father. I know that.”
“You’re doing fine,” she hastened to reassure him, putting her hand over his and squeezing. “No one who hasn’t been through what you’ve been through has any right to judge. And I’ve seen the way you are with them. How much you love them.”
He turned his gaze to the fire, still looking troubled. “I’m trying.”
“That’s all anyone can really do, isn’t it?” She laughed roughly. “I think we’re all just doing the best that we can on any given day.”
“I suppose so.” He reached for his glass and took another swig of the brandy. “I really wish you’d tell me who the new Prometheus is. I’ve turned it round and round in my head and can’t think of anyone other than you, Vanessa, and Serenity who knows of the connection between Prometheus and Brookhaven.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Was this why he’d truly come? Were all his sweet words just a way to disarm her, a way to learn what he truly wanted to know? And he was absolutely right. She and his brothers’ wives were the only people who could possibly know. But the fact that it hadn’t yet occurred to him that she or one of his sisters-in-law could be Prometheus was a bit insulting. Why couldn’t a woman be as brave and daring as a man?
“You’re not thinking the problem through,” she said finally. “The answer is right in front of you. You just can’t see it.”
He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t like puzzles.”
She shrugged, all the pleasant warmth of the evening disappearing. “I can’t give you any more than that, I’m afraid. And I wish we didn’t have to talk about this.”
“I’m sorry,” he said swiftly, obviously realizing how her mood had changed. “I didn’t mean to ruin things.”
She sat up straight, which caused his hand to dislodge from her shoulder. “It’s fine. But I think that you should go. It’s very late, and I really need to get some sleep.”
He looked as if he wanted to protest, but he slowly pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll go. But promise me that you’ll stop avoiding me. Please.”
She sighed. “I do appreciate that you came tonight. And I’m sorry I can’t tell you more about Prometheus.”
“It’s all right,” he said, giving her a pale imitation of a smile. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow, then?”
“Yes,” she answered, though, in truth, tonight had made it more imperative than ever that she stay away from him because of the danger to her heart that he represented.
Chapter Eleven
Morgan had hoped that his late-night visit to Fiona would make things easier between them but instead, it had only made things worse. The next week continued as the week before had. He showed up at Brookhaven every day to work on the murals, and she did her best to avoid him. When he did manage to run into her, the air between them practically crackled with tension and awkwardness.
But for some reason, he couldn’t leave it alone. He couldn’t stop thinking about what it would mean to have her in his life, though he still had no idea what that would look like or what exactly he wanted from her.
At his wit’s end, he finally realized that Adrian and Lucien were not the ones he really needed to talk to about the matter.
Which was how he found himself being shown into the gold parlor at Lucien’s house on the next Saturday afternoon for an audience with his sisters-in-law, Serenity and Vanessa.
“Morgan,” Serenity cried, rising to greet him with a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”
He embraced her tightly, though it was hard with her hugely pregnant belly. He was grateful as ever that she’d come into his brother’s life and made it so much better. “It’s good to see you, too, Serenity. It seems as though it’s been a while.”
As he stepped back, he was immediately pulled into another warm hug by Vanessa, the statuesque brunette Adrian loved more than life. “Hello, Vanessa.”
She beamed up at him, mischief in her dark eyes. “We’ve been dying to know why you asked to meet with us. Not that we aren’t both thrilled to see you, but I believe this is the first time you’ve ev
er wanted to see us when your brothers weren’t around.”
He winced a bit, knowing it was true. He loved these women like they truly were his sisters, but he was also a bit jealous of the passionate love affairs that his brothers had managed to find with them. He always felt a bit left out, an outsider looking in. Actually, he supposed that was part of the reason why he’d come.
He wanted what they had.
That realization stunned him, and he felt as though he might collapse with the weight of it. I want to marry Fiona. I want her to be my wife.
How had he not realized it before? Why had he allowed himself to think that some sort of friendship would ever be enough?
Something of what he was feeling must have been visible in his face, because Vanessa grabbed his arm and guided him toward the nearest chair. “What is it, Morgan? You’ve suddenly gone white as a ghost.”
He looked up to find both women staring down at him in concern. “It’s all right,” he managed. “I’m fine. I just need some advice.”
They exchanged a look, then sat down side by side on the sofa across from him, their eyes wide with speculation.
“Of course,” Serenity answered for both of them. “Just tell us what you need. We’d be happy to help you. Is it something to do with the children?”
He shook his head, though he realized that would make sense. He was a man trying to raise three children alone. They probably wondered why he hadn’t come to them for help sooner. They were a wonderful built-in support system that he’d never really utilized. “No, it’s not the children. Though perhaps you can help me with that sometime down the road.”
“Then it must be Fiona,” Vanessa announced slyly.
At his surprised look, she smiled and shrugged. “You should know that Adrian and I don’t keep secrets from each other.”